She longed to feel the hot fired edges of lust burn deep into her. She craved the gentle sensitive fingers from someone who might want to probe the de...ths of her longing. An emptiness echoed from far inside of her and she heard the muted pangs of crying emanate from her loneliness.As she lay in her bed, she found her own fingers tracing the burgeoning outline of her thick nipples. She ran in small circles near the crest, then down one side and ever so lightly up the other. Something stirred. After a gasp or two, Jean replied: ‘You won’t forget. I kept a diary on the way to Europe, but there are lots of things that aren’t in it that I remember, … not just like this. … There wasn’t anything like this.’ ‘Um-hmm,’ we all agreed, and Rick said to me: ‘Geez, we haven’t kept ours either, not since Florence.’ The girls and I chuckled, and I agreed: ‘We sure haven’t, better things to do in the evening. Maybe we can reconstruct the events.’ ‘Yeah, maybe, at least where we were. … Hm-hmm! But. More

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